


Linger in the Darkness

by Carmenlire



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I'm tagging that because I think I ended up writing that, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mundane Magnus Bane, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s03e10 Erchomai, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 09:43:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17180576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmenlire/pseuds/Carmenlire
Summary: It’s been awhile since he felt the darkness rolling back. The truth is that Magnus had been a breath of fresh air, a beacon of hope. Even as the shit with Valentine had worn him down, he’d been able to go to Magnus and they would decompress together.He’d even started thinking of the loft as home-- and didn’t that make him a fool.Or, Alec spirals in the aftermath of 3x10 and everything comes to a head one night at the loft.





	Linger in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks @prayformalec and @bytheangell for the angsty ideas! I hope you like what I did with them<3 
> 
> Also, here's a warning for canon-compliant self-harm and mention of panic attacks.

Alec feels the impact sing throughout his body as he kicks the punching bag. He doesn’t know how long he’s been at it, only that he still hasn’t worked out whatever the fuck is going on with him.

There’s this feeling that’s crawling its way through his chest, up his throat. He feels like he’s drowning in it and it’s taking everything he has not to surrender.

He is so fucking tired.

If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Alec’s been groomed to be the Head of an Institute since the day he was born but even Maryse and Robert’s didactic education couldn’t prepare him for the fucking wasteland he’d inherited.

A parabatai under Lilith’s control. A warlock boyfriend who was no longer a warlock and with choking fear, Alec wonders how long he has before the boyfriend part of that misnomer becomes defunct as well.

Magnus doesn’t have his magic anymore. Thanks to _him_ , Magnus isn’t the High Warlock of Brooklyn anymore-- he’s not even a goddamn warlock.

No, instead he’s a mundane. He might have lived for centuries but right now he’s like a duckling for all the protection he has.

Alec scoffs as he replays their conversation from breakfast.

 _Alexander, I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself. I’ve beaten you during our sparring sessions nine to two_.

The memory alone just makes Alec punch the bag with more force than required, the bag propelled to maintain a steady angle as Alec pours his frustration and worry and goddamn self-hatred into every punch and jab and kick as if he can expel the feeling from his body through sheer force of will.

What Alec didn’t say-- what he bit back hard enough to make his tongue bleed-- is that the only reason Magnus has ever won their sparring matches is because Alec can never concentrate well enough to beat him. It’s annoying and Alec can’t ever say that he let Magnus win--

But.

The truth is that while Magnus could certainly hold his own in a bar fight-- he _is_ exceptionally fit-- Alec’s been raised since infancy to be a soldier. He’s had hours and hours and hours of training. While Magnus might make him sweat a little, there’s no way that he’d win if Alec didn’t let himself get distracted by gleaming muscles and miles of skin that he knows tastes as good as it looks.

No, Magnus is hurting and he’s hiding and Alec can’t rip away his last vestige of armor.

The chain rattles as his momentum picks up and Alec’s glad that it’s late at night. This way, there’s little chance of discovery. Everyone is either sleeping or out on patrol and Alec doesn’t need his men seeing him so weak, so uncertain.

They live in tumultuous times and everyone is looking to Alec for direction. He has to be a leader for his soldiers, for the shadowhunters under his command that treat him with surface level obedience.

He hears the whispers in the halls though, and it grates on his nerves, makes him feel brittle enough to shatter into a thousand pieces.

He knows that if he ever did break that there’d be nothing left for anyone to glue back together. He’d grind into dust and disappear and all that would be left is biting disappointment and choking failure.

The training room is silent. Alec can’t hear anything over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. He knows that he’s riding a high, adrenaline kicking into high gear as Alec treats the punching bag like a particularly perseverent Forsaken. Sweat pours down his back, drips into his eyes. 

He savors the sting. It gives him a visceral satisfaction and he can’t help but feel good. This is what he was made to do. He’s a soldier first and foremost and he’s trained harder and longer than most will ever know.

It’s been awhile since he felt the darkness rolling back. The truth is that Magnus had been a breath of fresh air, a beacon of hope. Even as the shit with Valentine had worn him down, he’d been able to go to Magnus and they would decompress together.

He’d even started thinking of the loft as _home_ \-- and didn’t that make him a fucking fool.

Stepping back, Alec serves a roundhouse kick to the bag, immediately following through with a one-two punch that makes his abs whine in protest.

He can’t feel his arms.

Everything is going wrong lately and Alec doesn’t know how to fix it.

He doesn’t even know if he can.

His parabatai-- his best friend, his brother-- is devastated. Alec can’t even blame him but he can’t reach him either and every time his silent support is rejected it's another sting that Alec can’t quite recover from.

The Clave are breathing down his neck about how he could possibly have let Clary die on his watch and between the every day mundanity of his duties and the shadow that’s settled over his Institute, Alec feels seconds from screaming at any given moment.

Add Magnus to the mix and Alec doesn’t know up from down.

He doesn’t know what to do and it’s eating him alive.

He’s always the man with the answers, the person everyone goes to when they need a solution to their problems. But Alec feels like he’s drowning and there’s a weight in his chest that grows heavier every day and he doesn’t know how much longer he can go on like this.

His boyfriend isn’t the same. Alec almost punches himself for the thought but it’s true on every level. He’s not a warlock but he’s also not Magnus. Alec hasn’t heard a pun since that dreadful day, Magnus hasn’t worn makeup since he recovered from the arrow and he's drinking-- which isn’t ordinarily a problem but without his powers, Magnus’s tolerance has also gone to shit and Alec’s picked Magnus up from the goddamn floor in front of his chair four of the past six nights.

He’s helped him to the toilet and given him a glass of water and wiped his face with a cool rag as he listens to Magnus’s voice slur about how he _was_ The Great Destruction but--

But now he’s nothing.

Alec tells him that isn’t true. He’s tried everything he can think of-- relaxing date nights, words and encouragement and gently correcting him every single time he talks about himself as if he’s turned into a ghost but nothing works.

All Alec wants to do is hold Magnus but even that isn’t possible.

Magnus goes to bed after Alec and is up and dressed by the time Alec wakes up. He insists that he’s busy and he leaves the loft for long stretches but Alec doesn’t know where he goes.

There’s a piece of Alec-- hopefully naive and so fucking exhausted-- that wonders if that isn’t what they need. If he could just have five goddamn minutes to hold Magnus then maybe everything wouldn’t feel like it was caving in, maybe then he wouldn’t feel like he was constantly on the brink of failure, like he didn’t mess everything up with his mere touch--

Alec gasps as he throws his arm up to catch the bag as it falls from it’s incline. He barely feels the impact as he rests his forehead against it, trying to catch his breath.

He can’t breathe and a part of him just thinks that it’s about time.

A piece of him wonders with clinical disinterest that it had taken so long for everything to catch up to him. He works on his breathing, trying to swallow down desperate gasps and stuttering exhales. He feels like he’s choking and it’s all just so much.

It takes long minutes before he regains his equilibrium. When he tunes back into himself, he realizes that his eyes were shut so tightly that he’s seeing spots behind his lids. His fists are clenched hard enough that he feels blood run imperceptible down his palm.

 _It was worth it, though_ , Alec thinks dazedly. He’d gotten himself under control and he opens his eyes a few seconds later, shaking his head to clear it.

All he wants is to sleep. He feels like he could sleep for a hundred years and still wake up tired, with this bone deep-exhaustion riding him into the ground.

With a sigh, Alec steps back from the punching bag and heads to the bench that runs along the edge of the room. He wipes his face with his shirt and takes a few deep gulps from his water bottle.

It doesn’t take much for him to set the room to rights and Alec decides to take a shower in his bedroom in the residential wing before going to the loft.

It wouldn’t do to add to Magnus’s plate.

 

Walking into the loft, Alec glances down at his phone and sees that it’s just shy of midnight. He’d gone to his office after his shower and lost himself in approving leave requests for over an hour before he’d headed to Magnus’s place.

Shutting the door behind him as quietly as he can, Alec toes off his shoes and starts padding to the bedroom. Absently, he wonders if Magnus will even be there or if he should detour to the drink cart.

He’s just turning toward the living room proper when a voice speaks up from the corner.

“I was starting to wonder if you were coming home tonight.”

Alec’s hand flies to his chest as he mutters, “ _Fucking Christ_ ,” under his breath.

He looks up to see Magnus lounging in his favorite chair. He’s still dressed in his street clothes and Alec is dully surprised to see eyeliner sweeping over his lid.

“What are you doing up,” he asks, pausing at the edge between the foyer and the living room.

Magnus sends him an arch look. “Excuse me for waiting up for my boyfriend.”

At that, Alec steps takes a step closer, looking at him unsure. “You could have texted me. I would have let you know I’d be at the Institute late tonight.”

Alec feels like a ship that’s lost its mooring. Magnus _looks_ perfectly fine. His clothes are the usual couture, he’s wearing makeup, and his reply could be excused as teasing.

There’s something dark lingering underneath the surface though and Alec doesn’t trust his footing.

He’s too tired to do anything about it, though, so he just sends Magnus a wan smile and fakes a yawn. Most of him is just glad that he didn’t have to pour Magnus into bed and clean up a spilled martini.

He’s walking past Magnus when his boyfriend snags his hand, bringing it up to eye level to study it. Alec tries to hide his unease as best he can but part of him knows that he’s just been caught.

He curses himself a dozen times over for being such a goddamn idiot.

“Why didn’t you use an iratze, Alexander?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alec replies stiffly.

Scoffing, Magnus raises Alec’s hand even higher. “You don’t know what I’m talking about? Maybe I’m talking about the fact that your knuckles are split all to hell and back and they’ve started bleeding. Maybe I’m talking about _that_ , Alec.”

Snatching his hand back, Alec straightens, leveling Magnus with a furious glare. “I’m surprised you were sober enough to notice.”

Magnus rears back as if Alec had slapped him. Alec doesn’t have time to wish he’d bit the words back though before Magnus fires back, “Maybe I wouldn’t be drinking so much if my so-called boyfriend didn’t stay out all night.”

At that, Alec barks out a laugh, staring at Magnus incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not the one who doesn’t even want to be touched.”

“Well, I’m not the one beating the shit out of innocent punching bags when they could be doing better, more effective things.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Alec shouts, all of a sudden so angry that he can’t see straight. It’s like the past weeks have caught up to him in an entirely different way as he stares at Magnus who looks just as shocked at his outburst.

He’s tired of pretending and if Magnus is spoiling for a fight than by God, Alec will give him one.

“Either I beat myself into the ground or I come here and feel like my nerves are shredding,” he continues viciously. “I love you but it’s getting harder and harder to be around you. I don’t know what to do for you and you for goddamn sure don’t need to worry about me. So what? So I have a training session a few times a week. You should be happy. Those training sessions are the only thing keeping me fucking sane and if you really do want me here than you just need to deal with how I’m getting through this.”

Magnus pales, looking winded, and the silence that follows Alec’s searing rejoinder seems like a living thing. It’s suffocating him and Alec’s grapples with something to add but he’s said it all. His hour in the training room is what lets him do this-- come to Magnus and act like everything is fine, like he’s not breaking apart every minute of every damned day.

Magnus takes a shuddering breath before he asks hesitantly, “Are you telling me that this isn’t the first time since Jocelyn--” he ignores Alec’s flinch, powering on,” --that you’ve done this?”

Unsure what answer Magnus is looking for, all Alec can do is nod. It’s jerky and feels off but Alec’s tried his best to never lie to Magnus and he won’t start now.

At the admission, Magnus’s face falls and he takes a few steps closer to Alec. “Alexander, why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Alec can’t help his scoff, voice defensive as he says, “Why would I? You have better things to worry about than me working out. I’m here for you, Magnus. I _want_ to be here for you. I might not like how you’re dealing with things but I understand and I’ll take care of you until we get your magic back. You can depend on me. I know I don’t have the best track record, but I’m here for you. That’s all that matters.”

“Alexander, darling, don’t you see? We agreed that you’d never push me away. You’ve been hurting yourself and you didn’t tell me. I don’t want you acting like everything is fine when it so clearly isn’t. That’s not what we do. That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want, Magnus? You want your magic back.” It’s Alec’s turn to ignore Magnus’s flinch as he steamrolls ahead, voice unforgiving. “But you don’t have that and it’s my fault. You gave up your magic for me, for my parabatai. You’ve done more than you should have ever had to and I refuse-- _I goddamn refuse_ \-- to burden you any further. You don’t have to worry about how I cope. All that matters is helping you.”

“Alec, you stubborn, stupid man," Magnus starts savagely. "I can’t be okay if you aren’t okay. I lost my magic and I made that choice and it’s a decision that I will have to live with. It might not be easy and I might not be doing the best job of working through things but I am always here for you. You are the only thing keeping me standing most days and I will _not_ let you run yourself into the ground for me.”

“Don’t you get it,” Alec asks, voice soft yet pleading. “I’d do anything for you. You just have to ask. I’d grind myself to dust if it meant you’d be okay.”

“Well, darling, I’m not asking you to do that and I forbid it,” Magnus replies, tone brooking no argument. “You want to do something for me? _Talk to me_. Tell me when it’s getting this bad. Just because I’m dealing with my own demons doesn’t meant that I’m too weak to help you with yours. I meant what I said. Don’t push me away. If anything, I want you to pull me close and if I still don’t see it, shake me until my ears ring. I don’t _ever_ want you to hurt yourself because you think it’s helping me.”

Magnus’s voice is pained as he trails off, looking at Alec with sad eyes. Alec doesn’t know how things went so wrong between them and he just doesn’t have the energy to fight anymore.

“I don’t know how to help you,” Alec admits. His voice-- just above a whisper-- might as well be a shout as it rings out in the dead silent room. “You lost your magic because of me. That’s a fact. You’re hurt and suffering and I don’t know how to help-- or if there’s even anything that can help you. I don’t know what to do, Magnus,” Alec repeats, helpless.

Magnus considers him for a moment before crowding into his space, throwing his arms around Alec’s shoulders and holding on for all he’s worth.

“Just hold me,” he chokes out. “I just want you to hold me, Alexander, and let me lose myself in you, even if it’s only for a minute.”

Wrapping his arms around Magnus’s waist, Alec follows Magnus’s order and something in him breaks even as it falls into place. He buries his face in Magnus’s neck and breathes in that damned sandalwood scent that’s grown achingly familiar the past few months.

This is what he knows. Sometimes Alec wonders if his body wasn’t meant for Magnus’s. They fit together so well that it’s hard to know where one begins and the other ends.

The two of them hold on with everything they have and when Alec feels tears start to soak into his t-shirt, he just holds on harder. It feels like ages before Magnus pulls back, face tear stained with running makeup.

“I love you, Alexander.”

“I love you, too, Magnus.”

The words, said quietly, are no less ground-shaking and Alec finally feels like he has his equilibrium.

Magnus leads them into the bedroom and they strip out of their clothes slowly, as if the weight of the world is on their shoulders.

Sliding underneath the covers, Alec stills as Magnus shifts closer, tentatively resting his head on Alec’s chest before humming in contentment.

“I’ve missed this,” Magnus murmurs and relaxes against Alec.

“Me too,” Alec whispers and kisses the top of Magnus’s head.

Things aren’t perfect. They haven’t fixed anything. Alec is still worried about Magnus’s downward spiral and still obsessed with plans to get his boyfriend’s magic back. He can feel the need to physically release his tension simmering low in his blood-- he’s used training to fight his demons for as long as he can remember and that instinct won’t disappear after one conversation with Magnus, no matter how well-intentioned.

No, they still have a lot of work to do. But as Alec feels sleep luring him under, he’s aware enough to feel Magnus kiss his chest-- over his heart-- before settling back down.

As long as he has this-- as long as they have each other-- Alec knows they’ll be alright.

He refuses to accept anything less.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on tumblr or twitter @carmenlire!


End file.
